


Struggling to Communicate

by kribban



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Atheist Character, Case Fic, Gen, Heaven, Mother-Son Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2017-09-07
Packaged: 2018-12-25 02:48:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kribban/pseuds/kribban
Summary: Kevin should be living it up in his extremely cushy Heaven, but he's got a new friend in dire straits. Luckily, there's an angel on Earth who owes him a favor, and Kevin's mom? Well, she's always up for an adventure.





	Struggling to Communicate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamkist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamkist/gifts).



> If you're looking for a story where Donatello is a major character, you've come to the right place.

Kyle approached the elderly man carefully. It was his job to see everyone out and clean what needed to be cleaned before locking up. It wasn’t unusual for guests to stay behind after a service had concluded. A few minutes of silent contemplation or prayer wasn’t out of the norm. But Kyle had given the gentleman in the tweed jacket twenty minutes already, and there was a train to catch. 

“Excuse me, sir. The church is closing now.”

The man looked up when Kyle addressed him, his eyes clear but empty. He didn’t have the thousand-yard stare of the drug addicts that would come in occasionally, but there was clearly something missing. Maybe he had some sort of neurological disorder. Maybe he was a corporate psychopath. Kyle had seen all types come through the door and the church served everyone, without exception.

The man nodded as if he'd suddenly remembered it was customary to react. “The sermon was interesting today, don't you think?”

Kyle smiled politely and wondered if it would seem rude if he offered his arm. He couldn’t see a cane, but that didn’t mean the man didn’t have mobility issues. 

“It most certainly was. Pastor Wallis worked on it for two weeks.”

The man nodded slowly and rose to his feet. “I see. And yet, two weeks wasn't enough time to weed out the logical fallacies and unwarranted sentimentality. Of course, when the very fundament of your argument is a fantasy, you can't expect a rational conclusion.” 

An argumentative atheist was neither the most challenging, nor the most exotic, guest Kyle had dealt with. If this man was as rational as he tried to paint himself, perhaps he’d let him catch his train.

“I’m afraid I have to lock up now, but if you’re interested in learning more about Christian Apologetics, we’re hosting a free-of-charge seminar on the 5th. You’re most welcome to attend.” 

The man’s eyes narrowed and he took the tiniest step towards Kyle. “You are afraid, are you?”

Kyle pulled out his key ring demonstrably. “It’s only a figure of speech. I really have to close the church now, but I'd be happy to talk to you tomorrow.” 

A glimmer of amusement flashed in the other man’s eyes and he too pulled out something. It was a gun.

“How about now?” he said calmly and pointed it at Kyle.

***

Linda wrapped her arms around herself and leaned against the doorway. The room looked a lot bigger now that it was finally empty. 

The good stuff—his PlayStation, DVD-collection, the things that might wield a buck—had been dropped off at the Red Cross. She found a buyer for the cello through the music store. Most of the rest had ended up at the recycling center. Worn clothes, notebooks, plastic toys, sheet music; she'd carefully sorted each item into the correct recycling container. The staff had been helpful, but not obtrusive. They probably saw this sort of behavior all the time. 

The very last bits of Kevin; the things she couldn't bear to part with was already in moving boxes, ready to be picked up and transported to the new place. 

She hadn't even started on her own things yet.

Linda let out a sigh and walked off to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of lemonade – not wine; drowning her sorrows never worked out for her. She sipped it slowly as she watched the neighbor's kids through the window. Perhaps her maternal instinct was to blame. Putting Kevin before herself. She didn't need to do that anymore.

He went a bit nuts, at the end. He never hurt her, never lashed out at her, but the way his anger seemed to just build and build until it had nowhere to go was scary to watch. The last couple of weeks, she went through a whole box of fuses.

The first year after she got him back had almost been normal. Without a body, there wasn't much he could do, so they talked a lot, watched a lot of TV-shows. He was more at ease than he'd ever been when he was alive and she knew it was because it was over for him. His task, his quest: he'd completed it and being at home with her was his reward. 

It lasted longer than she had hoped. 

But eventually, his happy moments became fewer, and when his bursts of anger subsided he didn't seem calm, just apathetic. It was as if the further he got from being corporeal, the further he got from being human, and she knew it would be up to her to put a stop to it. 

His father's watch was in the safe in her bedroom, protected by a combination she changed weekly, and she wanted to be absolutely sure there was no turning back before she put her son out of his misery.

Luckily, God had intervened. 

Kevin had looked up from the TV, his eyes wide with surprise, and before she could react, he had been gone. She'd panicked, tried every summoning ritual she'd managed to scrounge up during her time on the run, and when nothing had happened, she'd burned her husband's watch in the sink. 

Dean Winchester had called her that evening, briefly informing her that her son had been sent to Heaven, that he'd seemed okay with it and had made his peace with God. 

Linda had cried a little and even though it was obvious Dean wanted to hang up, she needed to be reassured. Just this once. ”Do... do you know what that's like?”

”Don't worry,” he'd said, sounding softer than she could ever remember him sounding. ”Heaven's the grand prize. Kevin was God's prophet, he'll get a sweet setup.”

That was three weeks ago now. Linda had heard nothing more from the Winchesters and didn't expect to ever hear from them again. Not that she wanted to. Her son was finally safe, and the forces that ruled Heaven and Hell would never bother him again. The story continued, but his part of it was finished. And so was hers. 

The metallic sound of the doorbell broke her train of thoughts, and Linda went to open the door, glass still in hand. The angel Castiel stood on her doorstep, looking like he hadn't slept for days. 

”Mrs. Tran, may I come in? I have a message from Kevin.” 

*** 

Green fields stretched out all the way to the castle, and Kevin's horse fell into a joyful canter. He felt perfectly steady in the saddle, even though they were going fast enough that the wind lifted his cape behind him. It felt like riding a huge wave when you knew you weren't going to crash and that you wouldn't have to come down until you wanted to. He'd never felt this good when he was alive, and he wished there was a way to know for sure his mom knew it. Well, there would be one way...

The castle gates were open and he rode into the courtyard, the hooves clattering against the cobbled stone. Just as he'd suspected, his new friend was already waiting for him, sitting cross-legged on one of the stone benches. Kevin dismounted smoothly and pretended to check that the silver crown on his head hadn't budged, but really, he just wanted to touch it. 

”Hey, Don. Took you longer this time.”

Donatello just raised one of his bushy eyebrows in greeting. ”A high-rise Hong Kong apartment, a luxurious Ibiza beach house complete with some very attractive young women, and now this... fantasy castle that you're apparently the regent of. Kevin, I hate to be presumptuous, but I'm beginning to suspect these aren't your real memories.” 

Kevin handed the reins to the stable boy who had silently appeared and gave his horse a pat as she was led away. ”What can I say? I've got special perks.” 

”Do all prophets get the same treatment? Because I plan to make better use of mine if I do.” He threw his hands out and got a faraway look in his eyes. ”The moon landing, when Michelangelo painted _The Last Judgement_ in the Sistine Chapel... Oh, to be a crew member on Darwin's voyage!” 

His gaze landed on Kevin again and he let out a heavy sigh. ”I would make so much better use of it than you do.” 

”You should have died a younger man,” Kevin admitted and helped his fellow prophet to his feet. Strangely enough, the healing effects of his Heaven didn't work on visitors. ”Come on, there's wine in the throne room.”

 

Once he'd filled and refilled both of their goblets to the brim, he dared to ask for news.

”Unfortunately, I've....” Donatello ran his fingers through his messy, gray hair. ”My counterpart has committed another murder.”

”Same M.O.?” 

Donatello nodded. ”Headshot. Church volunteer. Very active in his congregation.”

Kevin raised his glass in sympathy. ”Hashtag not all atheists.” 

A ghost of a smile appeared on Donatello's face and he took another mouthful of wine. ”I still don't get it. Even if he lacks empathy, he still has my intellect. He must know that it's impossible to win an argument with violence.” 

”Maybe he doesn't kill them to win. He might just be trying to keep from getting caught. Where did it happen?” 

”San Jose, California. Close to where I went to high school, actually, which makes absolutely no sense. How can you be nostalgic if you lack a soul?”

That was a good question. Wouldn't it be funny if nostalgia turned out to be a base drive like rage or hunger. ”I'll let Castiel know. What about... What about Chuck?”

”Don't you mean God?” Donatello spat out. ”I'm afraid _God_ is not answering any of my calls, and neither is Amara, the oh-so merciful one. I have been successful in tracking down a few of my former cellmates, and they've all made it back to their bodies. There's obviously something wrong with mine, or I'd have gotten pulled back too.” He heaved another sigh and buried his face in his hands for so long that Kevin was getting worried. 

”You know they're called prayers, right?”

Donatello looked up, a defiant spark in his eyes. ”Fuck you, Kevin. Just because I have empirical evidence of God's existence, doesn't mean I'm going to completely abandon my principles.” Suddenly, he reached across the table and took a hold of Kevin's wrist. ”I can feel it,” he said quietly. ”Any second now.” 

Kevin squeezed Donatello's hand, letting him feel something tactile and real for just a few seconds more. 

”Hold on, Don. It will be over soon.” 

Donatello gave a small nod and vanished from before Kevin's eyes.

***  
  
”I never knew Kevin wanted to go to Ibiza. Hong Kong, yeah, I made vague plans for us to visit my cousin, but I never got around to it.”

Castiel clasped his hands on the table and leaned forward on his elbows. ”Well, my research tells me it's the 'number one party island'.” 

”Your research?”

He nodded. ”Your son is happy and fulfilled. He's been granted freedoms rarely given to the humans in Heaven. You shouldn't worry about him.”

Tears burned behind Linda's eyelids and she scratched the inside of her wrist with the long nail on her index finger. ”That's easier said than done.”

Castiel's slouch deepened until it looked like he was in danger of snapping in half. ”As you may know, I was fortunate enough to witness your son's work first hand. Know that he was faithful to his calling until the very end. I'm sorry to say, that I wasn't very supportive of him.” 

”Few people were.” Linda bit the inside of her lower lip when Castiel turned his head away. ”I appreciate you coming here in person. You didn't have to do that.” 

He didn't seem to have heard her, so she repeated the last bit, but there was no reaction this time either. His gaze was fixed on something far away and his mouth was slightly open. It was creepy as hell. 

”I'm sorry,” Castiel said suddenly and turned his head back towards her. ”I just received another prayer. I didn't mean to be rude.”

”Another prayer? From Kevin?”

He nodded. ”It has nothing to do with him personally. It's information for a case I'm working on.” 

”Does he know you're here? Tell him I got his message!”

Castiel gave a half-smile. ”Prayers only go in one direction. The only way I'd be able to talk to Kevin was if I visited him in Heaven, and that's something I'm avoiding as much as possible these days.” 

Linda drew in a sharp breath. ”All right, I'm coming with you.” 

A line appeared between Castiel's brows. ”That's not at all necessary. Like I said, the case has nothing to do with Kevin personally.”

”Do you have kids?” It came out harsher than she'd intended, and he looked away like he'd been hurt. ”Well, do you?”

”No,” he said quietly. 

”Then you don't know what it feels like, not being able to help your kid.” She held up her hand to stop the objection she saw was coming. ”I know he doesn't need my help, but... this is the last time I'll ever get to do something for him. _Please._ ” 

Castiel regarded her quietly for a few moments, and then he leaned in on his elbows. ”I've been tasked with hunting down a soulless murderer and killing him.”

Her heart skipped a beat, and she couldn't look away from the sudden intensity of his gaze. ”Tasked by whom?” 

”By the killer himself.”

*** 

Laci could no longer see her assailant through the tears in her eyes, but she could smell him. Sweat and gun oil, and— _Oh God_. ”Please,” she sobbed again, ”I don't want to die!” 

The grip on her neck tightened and the gun was pressed even deeper into her forehead. 

”And why is that?” he mocked. ”You know you'll go to Heaven when you die. Isn't that what Jesus promised you?”

Her knees would give out any second, and all of Laci's instincts were telling her she had to get away, she just had to. ”Please, sir,” she gulped down a breath of air. ”You're not making any sense.” 

”Oh, I think I'm making perfect sense,” he said coolly. ”I think you're the one who has a problem with rationality. Heaven's just a few seconds away for you. If I pull this trigger, you'll be having dinner with your man Jesus tonight. Why does that frighten you so?” 

”Please,” Laci repeated and her heart was pounding so hard her chest was hurting. ”Just tell me what you want from me.” 

”I already did. I want you to tell my why you're afraid of dying.” It was evident by the sound of his voice that he was getting impatient. 

Her nose was clogged so she took a steadying breath through her mouth, but that didn't stop her from choking up. ”I... I'm not sure! Because I'm not sure, okay!” 

She was let go so suddenly that she stumbled and had to struggle to regain her balance. 

”Congratulations, Pastor. You've taken your first small step towards rationality.” 

*** 

”That was quick.” 

Linda pushed her half-eaten plate of eggs and sausage away and reached for her purse. Twenty percent on four-fifty was... Linda thought about the scrawny kid who had served her and threw a twenty dollar bill on the table. 

”So have they figured out his identity already?” 

Castiel nodded. ”He was identified from surveillance footage of the parking lot. The police have put out a warrant for his arrest, but there have been no reported sightings in the last couple of days. I have a friend who works in law enforcement and she promised to keep track of it for me. I did found out that there was another attack last night, but –”

His phone buzzed and he frowned slightly when he checked it. ”It's unrelated to the case,” he said when he caught Linda looking at him. ”The attack was not fatal. A local pastor was assaulted by an unknown assailant when she was closing the church for the night. We should show her a photograph of Professor Redfield in case she saw her attacker. I believe it's worth the drive.”

It was obvious he'd learned a lot about working cases from the Winchesters, and Linda had to admit she was impressed. ”I agree. What did you get on your phone? Come on, Castiel, I've only been on the road with you for three days and I can already tell when you're hiding something.”

His shoulders sagged as he heaved a sigh. ”It was a notification that additional music had been added to the playlist I subscribe to. Since I don't sleep, I spend my nights reading and listening to music.” 

The possibility of Castiel doing anything for fun hadn't even occurred to her, and she wondered what kind of music he liked. Gospel songs? ”You're passing the time. That's a very human thing to do.”

He rolled his eyes. ”By all means, tell everyone.” 

*** 

”Is it really necessary? I've already given my statement.” Laci Briggs looked beaten down, in more ways than one. A white strip of gauze was fastened with tape to a shaved patch on the side of her head. 

”We have a few follow-up questions,” Castiel said gently. ”I promise, it won't take long.” 

Laci was quiet for a moment, and then her gaze fell on Linda. ”What about you? You're not the police.”

Linda already had her card ready. ”Pastor Briggs, my name is Linda Tran. I'm a volunteer with the National Center for Victims of Crime. I'm here if you—”

”You're here to make sure I don't do anything crazy, aren't you?” The corner of Laci's mouth lifted briefly and she opened the door fully. ”Come on in.” 

She led them into a room that was dominated by a large wooden bookshelf. The opposite wall was covered in paintings with Biblical motifs and there were several Bibles and study books on the coffee table. Laci cleared the table hastily and offered them seats and coffee. The seats, they accepted. 

”Don't worry, I'm not offended. I've been in this situation hundreds of times myself. I've just never been the victim before.” 

”That must be tough,” Linda admitted. ”Does your counseling background help at all?” 

”Yes, I'll know what to tell myself if I get anxious.” Laci leaned back in her armchair and crossed her ankles in front of her. ”So. What is it you want to ask me?” 

Castiel flipped through his very official-looking folder in a very professional-looking way and pulled out a printout.

”According to your statement, you were confronted by an armed intruder as you were locking up the Church last night. Please take a look at this photo and see if it resembles the man that attacked you.”

Laci accepted the print-out but handed it back almost immediately. ”Don Redfield. Yes, it was him.” 

Castiel looked puzzled. ”You told the officer you didn't recognize the man who attacked you. Why?” 

Laci glanced up to the ceiling. ”Look, nothing was stolen. He just asked me a lot of strange questions. I don't think he really wanted to hurt me.”

”And you didn't think the police would need to know that your assailant is a wanted fugitive?”

A look of confusion that could rival that of Castiel's flashed across her face. ”Fugitive? What did he do?” 

”He's the prime suspect in several church-related murders,” Castiel said grimly. ”In fact, you're the first victim to make it out alive.” 

The color drained from Laci's face and this was Linda's opening.

”How do you know Don?” she asked softly and nudged Castiel's ankle with her foot. 

”I went to high school with him.” Laci sighed and ran a hand over her face. ”He was... a science nerd, very bright, very argumentative. But he was nice! Normal. No violent tendencies at all, and trust me, there were plenty of violent tendencies in the student body.”

”Do you remember if he ever showed animosity towards religious institutions?”

”Not that I ever noticed, but... it was almost forty years ago. When I recognized him last night, I thought he was strung out on drugs or had suffered a psychotic break.” Laci's jaw tightened and she ground the palms of her hands together. ”He clearly wasn't acting rationally.”

Linda nodded. ”You said he asked you strange questions. Do you mind telling us what they were?”

”He held a gun to my head and asked me why that made me afraid. If I really believe in Jesus, why would death scare me, that sort of thing. I finally said I wasn't sure what I believed. That's when he knocked me unconscious.” Laci's eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. ”If I had known that he's... I would have told the police everything, I swear.”

Castiel regarded her with a closed expression. ”But you didn't, because you feel guilty about denying your faith.” 

And wow, that hadn't even occurred to Linda at all. She knew Castiel could be socially clueless, but he had obviously read the situation correctly because Laci lowered her head. 

”You shouldn't be,” he continued more softly. ”Your survival instinct took over in a life-or-death situation. That doesn't reflect on your faith at all.”

Laci raised her chin and studied him carefully. ”Why do you assume I wasn't telling him the truth?”

*** 

The bright lights of the night traffic looked like a swarm of fireflies from this altitude. Kevin breathed in the crisp, fresh air and waited for the elevator to finish its ascent. 

A harsh ping announced the elevator's arrival and he turned, drink in hand, to face his visitor. 

Donatello looked grief-stricken and he steadied himself on the gold-plated handrail that led down into the apartment. ”Please tell me you have something stronger than wine.”

”Jesus, what... Hold on.” The bejeweled cigarette case was full of expertly rolled joints. Kevin lit one and handed it to Donatello, who eyed it with suspicion before he shrugged and took a puff.

”I assume you want the news.”

Kevin hooked his thumbs through the hoops of the belt he wasn't wearing. ”We could hang out for a while first.” 

”Kevin, you're sweet but dumb. We don't know how much time I have before I'm sucked back again and we should make the most of it.” Donatello handed the joint back to Kevin and drew in a long breath. ”I almost killed someone I know.” 

”Oh God,” Kevin exclaimed before his mind had fully caught up. ”And what do you mean 'almost'?”

”There was this girl – in high school. I was a junior when she was a freshman. We weren't friends exactly, but we were on good terms. She was a good student, with a solid work ethic. Later I heard that she went on to become a minister, in one of those progressive denominations that accept women for the priesthood. But I haven't spoken to her in more than twenty years, until last night that is.”

”We've been over this,” Kevin said sharply and jabbed Donatello in the ribs a bit harder than he intended to. ”It isn't you.”

Donatello rolled his eyes. ”Right, it's a version of me that completely lacks compassion and inhibition. Look, I don't know what happened. They were talking, and all of a sudden he put the gun away and beat her unconscious.”

”So he's testing them. He allows them to live if they say the right thing.” Kevin started bouncing on his feet as he was thinking. ”Is there anything you'd really wanted to know? Is there an argument you've always wanted to win with people of faith?”

Donatello raised one of his bushy eyebrows. ”You mean, besides the existence of God?”

”Okay, so that's got to be it. An atheist without inhibition uses violence to destroy those he's unable to convert. Your friend probably fooled him into thinking he'd converted her, and that's why she got to live.”

”No, no, no,” Donatello frowned and took another puff on the joint. ”Look, you don't get it. It has nothing to do with inhibition. Respect for human life is integral to secular humanism. We care about human life because we know there's nothing else.” He squeezed his eyes shut while Kevin suppressed a giggle. ”I'm fully aware of the irony of that statement.” 

Kevin accepted the joint back and took a final puff before he flung it over the balcony's railing.

”Did you catch where he was going next?

”No, it's taken me all this time to make it back up here. Look, Kevin, I... The light of your soul is bright, but my strength is fading. I'm not sure how many more times I can make the trip.” Donatello let out a whimper and pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. ”Eventually, I'll be stuck in the veil.”

The despair radiating off of him was almost physically painful, and Kevin hadn't felt anything like that for... for however long he'd been up here. He turned his head into the wind and tried to listen to the distant sounds of traffic. 

”Look,” he said at last. ”It's not so bad. You just have to find something to keep you grounded; something that isn't a psycho killer wearing your body. That year with my mom, it was almost like being alive.”

Donatello's hands fell away, and his eyes were wet. ”You're an incredibly shitty liar.”

*** 

”There must be a tracking spell we can use.” Linda rolled her shoulders in an attempt to do something about the aches multiplying in her body. ”Surely an angel can use magic as well as a witch can?”

Castiel did his squinty eye thing again, which was a sign of either annoyance or confusion, depending on the context. This was probably annoyance.

”A tracking spell would only track the soul, which would useless in our case. Human beings are supposed to be alive or dead. If a body is alive, its natural state is to be joined with the soul. I've tracked down several of Amara's victims after she released them, and they have all been reintegrated with their bodies.” 

Linda exhaled deeply and tried to reach her toes with her fingers. ”Except for poor Professor Redfield.”

”I have my theories on why. As it is, he's neither alive nor dead. He is equally drawn towards Kevin' soul in Heaven and his own body on Earth.”

”He's drawn to Kevin because they're both prophets, right?” Linda's hips were relaxing a little more with each breath, and the stretch felt great after so many hours in the car. From upside down, the world seemed so much friendlier. 

”That's correct. No Heaven will be created for him until he dies, and if that doesn't happen... my guess is his soul will soon begin to deteriorate.”

A memory popped into her head: Kevin standing in the kitchen, screaming until the fuses blew. She felt suddenly dizzy and straightened up only to see Castiel staring at his phone as if into an abyss. 

She put her hands on her hips. ”Why did you lie to me about having a child?”

His finger hovered over the touch screen and he shot her an accusatory look. ”I've done nothing but respect your privacy, and I expected the same in return.”

”I didn't read your emails or text messages if that's what you're worried about. I looked at your playlist because I was curious about what type of music you listen to, and it seemed really eclectic, so I googled the account you were following, and –” 

”And you found a character bio for the Supernatural books.” His eyes narrowed and he put his phone away without looking away from her. ”And now you think you know me. Isn't that right?” 

Even though he hadn't raised his voice, Linda felt like she'd gotten a preview of what Heavenly fury looked like. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. 

”Castiel, I'm just curious! What's she like? Where does she live? Do you share her taste in music?” 

”Not really. I'm attempting to keep track of her moods by listening to the music she uploads, but it's difficult. Some songs have angry lyrics but upbeat melodies, others have melancholic melodies and happy lyrics.” 

His explanation was so ridiculous, so overly complicated, that she couldn't help but roll her eyes. 

”Wouldn't it be easier to just ask her how she's doing?” 

A muscle in his jaw twitched. ”I haven't had contact with her in years. And I don't plan to ever again.” His mouth snapped shut as if that was all he was going to say on the subject.

”Wow, okay....” Linda ran a hand over her face. ”Am I allowed to ask why?” 

”She doesn't want me to be a part of her life, and I respect that.” 

There was no emotion in his voice, and Linda just couldn't stand it, couldn't stand being in front of someone who had everything she wanted but refused to do something about it. 

”Did she actually say that, or is that something you've deduced from song lyrics?” 

He glared up at her. ”You're projecting your feelings onto me. I'm sorry for your loss, but our situations are nothing alike.”

”Fuck you,” she spat out. ”Can't you act human for two seconds?”

”I don't see what the point of that would be,” he said flatly. ”Now, please lower your voice so the neighbors don't hear you.” 

Linda threw herself on him, slapping him in the face until he caught both of her wrists. The chair made a scraping sound against the floor as she was forced down on it, and when she looked up, he was on the other side of the room. 

”I don't want to hurt you,” he said sharply.

”You're right, we're nothing alike.” Tears were running down her cheeks and neck and into her blouse. Her lips were salty. ”I didn't cut my child out of my life. He was stolen from me, for a war I had nothing to do with, and now I'm forced to go on without him. And for the chance to talk to Kevin one more time, even if it was just on the phone, I'd give anything.”

She gave a bitter laugh and wiped the tears from her eyes. ”But this is what I have to settle for. You're the only one Kevin can talk to, and he can't even know for sure that you're listening.” 

Castiel's frown deepened, but his posture relaxed slightly. ”Is your fit of rage over?”

She snorted and threw out her hands, ”Yeah.” 

”Good. Because we need to leave, right now.” There was no trace of anger left in his voice, only urgency, and excitement. He was already pulling on his coat. 

Linda jumped to her feet and looked around the room for her purse. ”Another prayer?”

”No. I realized there's a way to intercept Donatello next time he's on Earth. We should be able to draw him away from his body long enough for us to talk to him.” He adjusted the lapels of his jacket and stopped in his tracks to look at her. ”Long enough for you to pass on a message to Kevin. Now, come.” 

She fumbled with the buttons of her jacket. ”Of course! Where are we going?” 

”To see the next prophet.”

*** 

 

She had only smoked analogs once, during pre-production of her _Orphan Black_ show. Smoking to deal with stress was part of the producer-director package, along with drinking bitter coffee out of tiny cups and yelling at people. She had bought a pack of Virginia Slims and suffered through two cigarettes before she quit for good. It was, after all, impossible to look sophisticated in front of your crew while you were throwing up. 

Marie sucked hard on the mouthpiece of her mod and breathed out a cloud of sweet vapor. The hit of VCT gave her the edge she needed and she flipped through to the last page where the final grade was written. Her heart sank.

”Excuse me.” 

A middle-aged Asian lady had appeared by the table and Marie was already reaching for the day's newspaper to give to her. The lady, who looked quite friendly, smiled warmly. 

”Are you the writer who adapted Carver Edlund's _Supernatural_ books for the stage?”

”Oh!” Marie adjusted her glasses and held her hand out for the lady to shake. ”I am she!” 

She also shook the hand of the man who had appeared next to her. He looked less friendly, but that could be because he was trying to keep a professional distance. Marie forced herself to stop smiling and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear in a way that she hoped looked casual.

”How may I help you?” 

The man's eyes bored into her. ”I'm Castiel, Angel of the Lord. I've come to ask for your aid in a matter of life and death.”

”Oh,” Marie slumped in her seat. ”I hoped you were a publisher.”

*** 

Linda hadn't been inside a dorm room since she had lived in one, but it was exactly as cramped and run-down as she remembered. The young woman who was supposed to take Kevin's mantle sat on the narrow bed and smoked frantically.

”Can you at least open a window? I don't want to get a contact high.” 

”It's nicotine.” Marie looked up at her. ”Vanilla custard and tobacco. Look, I can't be a prophet,” she said to Castiel. ”Every script I've forced myself to write these last two years has sucked. We're talking major suckage. I should have gone into theater production as I'd always planned, but no, because an author liked my fan fiction I thought I could go pro.” She looked between the two of them. ”I'm not a good writer.”

”That can't be a requirement,” Linda said and looked at Castiel for confirmation. ”My son wasn't a writer at all.” 

Castiel nodded. ”Neither was Donatello. A prophet doesn't have to write, he or she simply has to interpret the word of God, something you've already proven that you can do. I think that's why God handpicked you.” 

Marie's eyes widened and she let out a whimper. ”Wait... You mean? Oh, fuck.” She groaned and buried her face in her hands. ”Okay, that's just too meta, even for me.”

Castiel's mouth curved into a smile. ”Didn't you find it all strange that the only writing program you were accepted to was in the San Francisco Bay Area? What would you say if told you that the previous prophet lived here, in San Jose, when he was younger?”

Marie lifted her face from her hands. ”I'd say that's a strange coincidence.” 

”Look, we can't force you but...” Actually, Castiel probably could, but Marie didn't have to know that. ”It would mean a lot to me,” Linda continued softly. ”I can pay you.” 

Marie let out a sigh and got up from the bed. ”No, no. Obviously, I'll do it. It's just going to suck, okay?”

Castiel patted her shoulder reassuringly. ”It doesn't have to be good writing, it just has to work.”

*** 

Marie needed some privacy to focus so Linda went with Castiel to pick up the necessary ingredients. He had the most of it in his car, a silver dish, a taste-testing bag of small animal bones, and some dried herbs. There was a Whole Foods nearby where they bought dried sage, and he recited a prayer over a bottle of Evian. ”Holy water,” he said by way of explanation. ”In case there's a problem.”

A mere forty minutes had passed when they returned and Linda was a bit worried that Marie wouldn't be finished, but it turned out to be an unfounded fear.

”Deadlines,” Marie said cheerfully. ”The best remedy for writer's block.” 

They moved Marie's small desk into the middle of the room and Castiel set up everything he needed for the spell. ”Do you know what to do?”

Marie looked at the bronze knife and rolled up her sleeve. ”Yes, but I can't cut myself.” She looked at Linda pleadingly. ”No offense, Castiel, but you're not human.” 

Linda picked up the knife. She'd cut into a human body once, one that had been taken over by a demon. She remembered killing as clearly as she remembered removing Kevin's splinters with a sewing needle when he was a child. ”It's okay.” 

She cut Marie's arm from elbow to wrist and helped her hold it over the dish where the blood could drip down on the herbs below. 

Marie held the paper she had written with her other hand and started to recite, her voice thick with emotion.

”Fellow Prophet of the Lord, interpreter to interpreter, writer to reader, heed my call! Grab onto the string of my blood and let me tow you into the land of the living. Oh, wandering soul, follow the searchlight of my spirit and find your way into safe lands once again!”

Nothing changed in the room except for the ghostly figure that appeared next to Marie, and Linda suddenly remembered what Kevin had looked like as a spirit: pale, and partially transparent like a projection. 

”Where am I?” 

The man whom she'd only seen in a photograph looked nervously around the room. ”Castiel!” 

”Professor Redfield, we don't have much time. Do you know where your body is?”

Donatello rubbed his eyes as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing. ”A church that's attached to an apartment building. Brick exterior, no windows. I didn't see the name!”

”I know it!” Marie said quickly.

”Please give Kevin this message,” Castiel said and that was Linda's cue. 

”You're his mom? He talks about you all the time!” 

She nodded. ”Tell Kevin to have a good time and not to worry about me. I'm perfectly fine.” 

”Okay, good time, not to worry. I'll tell him.” Tears were forming in his eyes. 

”Professor,” Castiel called on him once more. ”As soon as you die you'll be reaped to your own Heaven. You and Kevin should say your goodbyes quickly.” 

Donatello looked at Castiel pleadingly. ”You have to stop him, please! I don't want anyone else to die!” 

”I promise,” Castiel said sternly. ”Listen to me. The reason you haven't been able to reoccupy your vessel is that it's been scarred beyond repair by the actions it has committed. Murder is so against your nature that your soul is rejecting it. None of this is your fault.”

”Okay,” Donatello said breathlessly, his eyes darting back and forth between the three of them. ”Thank you. For everything.”

A few seconds followed where no one knew what to say, and then Donatello vanished just like he had arrived. Marie's blood – his tether – had stopped flowing. 

Castiel sprung into action, healing her wound and sticking a pen in her hand. ”Write down the directions to the church.”

A frown appeared on her face. ”I'm coming with you.”

He shook his head. ”Once you've locked the door behind us you must lie down on the bed and not move. You're going to experience a seizure. Perhaps more than one.” 

 

*** 

_After the lightning and thunder_  
After the last bell has rung  
I want to bow down before Him  
And hear Him say well done 

The voices of the Riverview Methodist Youth Choir echoed beautifully in the near empty church hall. As always, the rehearsal was open to anyone who walked in from the street who wanted a bit of music in their life. Today there was an audience of one. 

The empty vessel that had once been Donatello Redfield sat in the second row, his hand in his pocket, and with a peaceful expression on his face.

*** 

 

The front door was propped open with a door stopper, and the sounds of music echoed out into the hallway. Linda's heart pounded in her chest as she followed Castiel into the church. There were kids singing: teenagers barely old enough to drive, wearing jeans and t-shirts instead of gowns. 

She glanced over at Castiel who had already found what they were looking for. 

The song came to a close, and as the conductor began to talk, Castiel did something she wouldn't have guessed in a million years. He began to applaud. 

When she realized what he was doing, announcing his presence in the most sensational way, she joined in. The two of them applauded and cheered until the conductor and choir had taken their bows, delighted to have their work so appreciated. 

”All right, let's take ten,” the conductor said, and as the kids filed out, she counted them silently, each of them a life saved. 

Soon they were alone with their target. 

The gray curls and the tweed jacket were the same, but everything else was unfamiliar. There was a cruel expression on the face of the man who had made her so happy earlier tonight, and it was far worse than seeing someone possessed by a demon. 

”You're disappointing me on several levels, Castiel,” Donatello said with a sneer. ”I didn't think I'd see you volunteer to fight your father's battles. I'm assuming that's you in that container, and not your big brother.” 

Castiel shook his head. ”My brother is gone, and I'm not here by my Father's request. I'm here by yours.” 

Donatello snorted. ”Well, I always was a sentimental weakling. Go on, do what you came here to do.”

Linda had expected a battle of some sort, a shouting match at the very least, but Castiel almost looked like he was hesitating.

”Professor, would you mind satisfying my curiosity?”

”I'm deeply dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge.” Donatello spread his arms wide. ”What do you want to know?” 

”Why are you doing this?” 

There was a note of wonder in Castiel's voice, and Linda realized it was the first time she'd seen him really want something for himself. 

”I'm saving people,” Donatello replied calmly. ”I'm gifting them the world view that I lived with. It's a view of the universe that makes sense, that values rationality and human life.”

”But you were wrong.” Castiel shook his head in puzzlement. ”You know God created the universe. You know Heaven exists. You're spreading delusions – why?”

”Because the truth is horrifying, irrational, and demoralizing. Knowing it is a fate worse than death.” Donatello raised his chin. ”Now, I'd like a courtesy in return. I want to exit this world the way I entered it: by human means.” 

Castiel sighed deeply, ”I don't...” 

”I'm not going to shoot your friend if that's what you're worried about. It would be pointless, and I don't believe in pointless violence.”

”Let him,” Linda heard herself say. ”I owe him one.” 

 

*** 

 

Donatello stumbled on the hot sand and grabbed the headrest of the wooden sun bed. He tipped his head back and laughed. ”It's over. Kevin, it's finally over!”

The tension drained from Kevin's soul and he laughed, giddy with excitement, slapping his friend on the shoulder. ”Welcome to your new life, Don.” 

He felt a pang of sadness as he realized that they likely didn't have much time. ”Listen,” he said, ”I want to thank you for giving me the message from mom, and for being such good company these last few weeks.”

”Oh no, Kevin, it is I who should be thanking you. I appreciate everything you've done for me. If it wasn't for you...” Donatello trailed off, no doubt imagining the horrible fate of being a restless spirit. 

”Oh, don't let me interrupt.” 

A man was watching them with amusement from a few feet away. He was dressed for the occasion: short sleeves and pants, but there was something otherworldly about him. 

”You're an angel,” Kevin said. 

”Absolutely not! I'm a reaper.”

”You're here to take my friend to his Heaven, aren't you?”

The reaper gave Donatello a long, knowing look. ”I'm going to fulfill your most heartfelt wish, Professor Redfield.” 

Something about the way he said it didn't feel right, and when Kevin looked at his friend it was like seeing him for the first time. 

He was looking at Kevin with compassion in his eyes.

”My entire life has been based on the certainty that there's nothing after death. That certainty has given my life meaning, and I've enjoyed every second of it. To be forced to continue to exist for eternity, effectively rendering my life worthless - that's as frightening to me as Hell.” 

Kevin swallowed thickly. ”What about Darwin's Voyage? The Sistine Chapel?”

”It wouldn't be real,” Donatello said softly. 

Tears were burning behind Kevin's eyelids, and he shifted from one foot to the other. ”Is this really what you want?”

Donatello's face broke out into a smile. ”With every fiber of my being.”

Kevin threw himself around Donatello's shoulders and hugged him tightly. When he finally let him go, he found his friend already looking into the reaper's eyes. 

”It won't hurt, will it?”

The reaper smiled and held out his hand. ”Not one bit.” 

Donatello winked at Kevin. ”Remember me as long as you want to.” 

Kevin felt himself nod, and he watched as the grumpy old man he'd grown to call a friend, the argumentative atheist, the non-violent defender of humanity took the reaper's hand. 

He was alone once more.

*** 

Linda sank down in the passenger seat of Castiel's Toyota. ”Marie's finally asleep. I made sure she didn't take too many Advil.”

”That's good. I'm sorry I couldn't heal her pain,” Castiel said regretfully. ”Being a prophet is a... divine ailment, and angelic grace is ineffective against those.” 

Was this his roundabout way of apologizing for not helping her son? Linda exhaled sharply and rolled her shoulders until they popped satisfyingly. 

”I gave her my number. Poor girl doesn't have anyone to talk to, and I'm in a unique position to advise her. Both due to my experiences with Kevin, and my peer counseling background.” She turned towards Castiel and waggled her eyebrows. ”Yeah. Did you think I walked around with fake calling cards in my purse?”

A big grin spread on his face. ”Mrs. Tran, I'm glad you insisted on working this case with me. I don't know what I would have done without you. And Marie... she'll no doubt appreciate your help. To be alone with this calling, at her young age...” He shook his head. ”I can't imagine how difficult that must have been for Kevin, or for you.” 

Linda held out her hand. ”Give me your phone.” 

His eyes narrowed in suspicion, but he complied without protest. He still hadn't figured out how to use the fingerprint lock, but she wasn't going to show him how to. She was going to show him something else.

”Look at that – Claire knows you're subscribed. She can also track which songs you listen to, and how many times.” Linda dropped the phone in his lap. ”You're welcome.”

Castiel didn't meet her eyes. ”It's very likely that Kevin got your message. I know it isn't enough.”

Linda thought of the moving boxes in her bedroom, and the house she still needed to pack up. She fastened her seat belt.

”It's going to have to be.”

 

*** 

The killing spree of the San Jose Slayer, Donatello Redfield, ended with a self-inflicted gunshot wound in Riverview Methodist Church. It was widely speculated that he was so moved by the performance of the youth choir that his hardened heart filled with remorse and he couldn't bring himself to kill again. 

It was a nice theory. 

*** 

Marie took a break from typing to flex her wrists and fingers. The puff of VCT she took wasn't to ease her nerves but to enhance her excitement. She had a plot twist coming up in the next chapter, and she couldn't wait to see how her characters would react. 

*** 

When Claire Novak returned to her motel room she had three missed calls from Castiel. The fourth one, she answered. 

*** 

Linda leaned against the railing and marveled at the detail of the Hong Kong skyline. 

Kevin's eyes were lit with excitement as he came out of the apartment carrying a tray with two colorful drinks. ”Mom, you're here!” 

”Of course I am,” she said and felt herself frowning. ”I'm dreaming about you, and that trip we never took.”

”No, no, no.” He let out a laugh and put the tray down. He jerked his thumb in the direction of the corner where a shadowy figure was standing. ”Some angel is dream walking you. Special perk.” 

He grabbed her shoulders, and suddenly she realized that she hadn't touched him in years. 

”Mom? Welcome to Heaven.”


End file.
